He pushes me away from him with more force than he’s ever shown me. My ankle rolls over itself and the side of my face lands against the banister with an echoing smack. Myback lands hard against the staircase. Shooting pain fills my cheek instantly while I clutch the banister.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
He lets out a sharp laugh. “You’re so clumsy. Stand up.”
I blink back tears as I stand up, scrambling away from him as blood trickles down my cheek, my back stiff.
“Shit. Audrey, come on, pay attention. You have to be more careful. Don’t overreact.” His footsteps move away from me. “Let me get you ice. It’s probably nothing.”
“No—Get. Out. You don’t get to play the hero right now. I’m done.” I wipe the blood away as I climb up the stairs as quickly as I can, pulling my phone out of my pocket and dialing before he can stop me.
I’m so fucking done.
Eight: Noah
I Won’t Lie - Go Radio
My fingers hover over the screen. It’s Connor’s phone, but he’s in the shower, and it's Audrey calling—a photo of her and Connor hugging on display. I know, from the crowd in the background, that it’s from the last game of the season, when they lost the World Series, but they’re both smiling like they won anyways.
“Dude, it's your sister, should I–”
“Pick it up!” he shouts. “Be out in a sec …”
Gladly.
When I answer the call, I expect to hear “Hi, asshat” and I was ready to reply with, “Hi, ya ninny” or some other lame middle school diss. But, I don’t have a chance to say anything before gasping sobs fill my ears. My mouth goes dry and I don’t know what to do.
“Co-Con-Connor, I-I … I ne-eed … c-c-can … ” her words are coming out in hyperventilating hiccups and my heart breaks for her. Audrey is a guarded person who doesn’t cry much outside of movies. I’ve only seen her cry uncontrollably twice in my life. The first time, she was sevenand broke her arm falling off the monkey bars and the second time was the day Connor and I packed up and left for college.
Hearing the pain in her cries feels like shards of glass are stabbing my heart.
“Auddie, it’s Noah, take deep breaths for me. It’s okay, I’m right here.” I keep my voice soothing, expecting her to hang up once she realizes it’s me, but she doesn’t. “Connor’s in the shower, you don’t need to tell me what’s wrong, but I’m going to stay on the line with you until he gets out, okay? I’m right here.”
She continues to cry, but doesn’t hang up.
Make her smile, you idiot!
I flash back to one of the last good memories I have with her. “Do you remember what happened on your seventeenth birthday? Connor and I baked you that terrible chocolate cake, but you ate it so politely, as if it wasn’t completely raw inside. We all ended up sick the next day, remember that?”
I close my eyes, transporting myself back to that night, grateful that her crying is getting quieter.
“You and I sat on the front porch talking most of the night, watching the fireflies. You told me your favorite number was twenty-one and when I asked why, you said it was because it was my jersey number, you remember that? I had to fight tooth and nail to get that number in college,but there was no way I was wearing a different number, it felt like it belonged to me … tous,” I tell her honestly.
She sniffles.
“You remember what else happened that night? Can you tell me Auddie?”
Her words come out jagged. “We-we … I … you … we a-almost kissed.”
“That’s right.” I smile at the memory, but the sound of the bathroom door opening interrupts me. “Connor’s here now.”
I hand the phone to him before she can respond.
What was all that shit? She’s in a relationship, Jesus. It’s wrong to talk about our past. What if she was calling to tell Connor that Paul’s grandma just died or something?
“Hey Auds,” Connor says cheerfully, but as the muffled sound of her voice mixed with her cries continues his face falls and he sits on the bed, looking like he just saw a ghost.
“When?”
